Pain and Pathos
by elfmaiden4legs
Summary: ****Hannah, the teams insomnia patient is released from hospital, but it hasn't escaped their notice that House has been having trouble staying awake. Wilson pays House a visit to find out what's wrong with his friend. My take on a possible missing scene!


**Pain and Pathos**

"Is it the leg?"

"It's always the leg!" House groaned as he stretched out on the sofa, a thin film of sweat covering his face, and his leg propped up on several plump cushions. His gaze was turned towards the television set, following the action with his evidently tired eyes, and yet his attention was not fully focused on whatever it was that he was watching. He looked exhausted.

The evening Hannah had been discharged from the hospital Wilson had shown up at House's apartment. He wasn't quite sure why he'd found himself there, what good it would do? But his team hadn't failed to notice that whilst their patient had been having trouble sleeping, House had been having trouble staying awake. Coupled with his increased intake of vicodin, caffeine, and sugar over the past few days this had only served to fuel Wilson's concerns, and so it was that he'd decided to pay his friend a visit at the one place where he knew House wouldn't have to hide his pain – couldn't conceal his discomfort.

"For how long?" Wilson sighed, mentally kicking himself and angry for not noticing the signs sooner… House was in pain, and had been doing his best to conceal it from them all. So far he'd been admittedly rather successful at it, and may have continued to be so if it hadn't been for the increasing amounts of vicodin which he'd been taking.

"Oh, only since the last ten years." His friend remarked sarcastically.

It wasn't as though Wilson hadn't found himself standing here, in the middle of the night, or in the early hours of the morning before – wondering what to do for the best for the sake of his best friend – and his instincts regarding House had rarely ever let him down before. He'd known House for longer than he cared to acknowledge, theirs had been a friendship which had somehow seemed to be a mutual connection from the start, despite their significant differences. They'd never had to work particularly hard at it, and perhaps that had been a good thing… perhaps that had been why it had survived the test of time and adversity.

Even before the infarction Gregory House had needed somebody to catch him when he fell – emotionally, rather than physically back then – and Wilson had always been a giving counterpart. But Wilson had realised very early on that House also cared, in his own way, and so he'd stayed through the trails, and trivialities, testing to the strength of their friendship – through the infarction, and the subsequent years which had followed. He knew House better than anybody… perhaps even better than the ageing doctor knew himself.

"I mean, how long has it been keeping you awake?" Wilson asked.

_After he'd arrived at House's apartment he'd only knocked softly initially, but after receiving no response he'd knocked a little harder. Finally, after hearing only muffled indications that House was home, and in apparent response to his knocking – he'd thought he heard his friend's voice calling to him, precipitated by a deep groan – he'd unlocked the door with his own key and let himself into the flat._

_That had been when he'd found him splayed out on the sofa, massaging his wounded thigh muscle – face glistening with a thin film of sweat._

House grimaced as he tried to sit up, moving his leg stiffly from the position it had been set in for the last few hours.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Wilson asked, stooping down to examine his friend's leg more closely and get a better view of his friend… he looked exhausted.

House shrugged. "Talking about it won't help my pain." He remarked matter of factly… and the sad truth was that he was right. Every day Gregory House woke up in excruciating pain; unrelenting, chronic, constant pain which could be managed but never cured… and no amount of words would ever fix that. All anyone could do was to be there for him when he needed them, and help him manage the pain as best they could – which was exactly what Wilson intended to do.

Wilson sighed. "Lets get you off this couch and into bed first shall we?" He suggested sympathetically. "Than I can give you morphine for the pain, and estazolam to help you sleep."

"Thank you." House sighed, tone barely a whisper as he looked up at Wilson with sunken and bloodshot eyes.

Wilson smiled. "Don't mention it."


End file.
